Lovely Photographs
by polkasquares
Summary: Eventually, every pairing in Harry Potter will get its chance in the limelight through a short oneshot. Het, slash, and femslash. Three most recent pairings: SeverusLily, DracoGinny, and VoldemortBellatrix.
1. SiriusRemus

"What page are you on?"

Remus tried to look over at Sirius, but it was quite difficult, as he had taken up his usual irritating position with his chin upon Remus' shoulder and his nose in Remus' book. "One hundred thirty-three. See, how it says it at the bottom of the page?"

"Oh, well of course it does, Moony. But the print's so small on those pages that I'm surprised you'd think I'd be attempting to decipher it."

Remus sighed. _Of course,_ he thought. He'd learned long ago that just because Sirius was looking over his shoulder at his book didn't mean that he was actually doing it so he could _read._

Sirius had now taken to pacing around the room, a sort of erratic walk-skip-jump that distracted Remus from his reading and forced a snort of laughter out of him.

"What, Moony?" Sirius asked, looking at him impatiently. "What are you doing? Keep reading!"

_"Keep reading?"_ Remus looked at him incredulously. "How on Earth do you expect me to keep reading when you dig your chin into my shoulder and hop around like a Chocolate Frog?" he asked, but he was grinning.

"Never mind that," Sirius said, and sat down on a couch, watching Remus intently. "Keep reading!"

Remus glared at Sirius for a second before finally sighing and returning to his book.

Sirius continued watching Remus for almost ten minutes, rapping his fingers on his knee and jiggling one foot, when suddenly he perked up, seeing that Remus was now looking at him.

Remus had indeed looked up from his book; he then walked directly across common room and kissed Sirius sincerely on the mouth.

Neglected lay the open book on Remus' abandoned chair, three inky words on page one-fifty written in Sirius' scrawling hand standing out on the page:

_"I love you."_


	2. VoldemortBellatrix

Lord Voldemort didn't like to think of her as his "lover."

"Lover" was a word used by fools who wandered about blindly, unaware of the cold truth of the world, believing that someone they inexplicably felt attracted to would do anything for them and stay by them always. Voldemort knew better.

Bellatrix Lestrange was only a woman with whom he slept from time to time—no, "slept with" wouldn't be the exact term. He preferred to keep it to a simple "sex."

He knew that she didn't feel the same towards him, and it was true that it unnerved him: that she could be all that he could ask for in a perfect servant, go beyond even his high expectations; that she could be cold and ruthless without letting ridiculous "love" get in the way of her objectives, but that there was something there that seemed as if it didn't belong.

He could read it in her thoughts as they would spend a night in his bed, her mind most vulnerable at those times. He would see that she felt something for him that she called "love."

Voldemort could tell that this "love" stemmed from admiration, devotion, worthy ideals, and primal pleasure—all things that he could tolerate and wished for in a servant—but it frustrated and angered him that his most faithful Death Eater could lower herself to do something like "love" and, more importantly, that he couldn't understand it fully in her thoughts.

It never hindered her, though. Each task given to her was carried out meticulously; people were tortured and killed without a thought of mercy. He supposed that an exception could be made for those "fools who love" if they "fell in love" with someone who thought the emotion something worthless. Yes, that must be it. It did not matter that Bellatrix had the potential to love a man, thus becoming a fool, if the object of her affections was the one who would set her right.

That night, after an interview with Bellatrix about her current situation, Lord Voldemort decided that he was happy that the singular event he had just learned about hadn't affected Bellatrix's judgment at all. She still went out to gather information and carry out her duties to rid the Earth of Mudblood scum.

As she left to do what was expected of her, Voldemort pondered their current situation and wondered vaguely if Bellatrix would love their child.


	3. DracoGinny

Ginny Weasley was seething in the Gryffindor common room, and, approached tentatively by Ron, she nearly overturned a lamp in her fury.

"What do you _mean, _what am I so angry about? You were _there, _weren't you? I've about _had it _with Malfoy using his bloodline as an excuse to go off _insulting _people all the time!"

"Yes," said Ron warily, "We all are, obviously, but that was a brilliant hex you put on him. He's not going to be at it again any time soon."

Ginny glared. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Nothing is ever going to shut him up. No matter _how _many times I hex him, he's never going to stop taunting—not just Hermione and all the other Muggle-borns, but also anyone he dislikes if he can find the slightest reason to ridicule them."

"Hey, I wish he'd get himself turned into a slug as much as anyone does, but he's just a git is all. He's not going to _change."_

Ginny paused mid-growl. "Malfoy finds us disgusting," she said, but she was more matter-of-fact than anything else.

Ron started. "Well, yeah, we're a lot of 'filthy blood-traitors,' aren't we? Berk's always been explicit about that."

"Exactly," Ginny said, an evil-looking smile starting to spread across her face. "He finds me completely revolting, doesn't he? Absolutely repulsive."

"I get the point, Ginny. …What are you on about?"

"You'll see," she said determinedly.

The very next morning, as students were filing into the Great Hall, a loud, sharp yell silenced the room. "Malfoy!" Ginny Weasley screamed.

Draco Malfoy turned around languidly, a smirk resting neatly on his face. "What is it, Weasley?"

"I'm bloody tired of you getting off on disrespecting my friends!" She was approaching him fast.

"…And why should I care?" He raised his eyebrows. "Are you finally going to stop me? Put me in my place? You wouldn't dare, you dirty blood-traitor." He drew his wand as Ginny almost approached him.

However, Ginny's wand was not drawn, and as she came to a stop in front of Malfoy, she looked him directly in the eye. "I'm disgusting to you. Repulsive, sickening, and foul. There's one thing that will get you to shut the hell up."

With that last comment, she grabbed his collar, violently yanked him toward her, and shoved her mouth distinctly onto his, determined to make this a kiss that would get him to leave her alone possibly forever.

Without warning, however, what was meant to be a kiss out of spite turned unexpectedly more passionate. Malfoy parted Ginny's lips, and her tongue reached out to caress his. She felt panic rise inside her at what the kiss was becoming, and she ripped herself from Malfoy, spitting theatrically on the floor of the Great Hall.

"You disgust me, too, Draco Malfoy," she said, and strode swiftly out the door.


End file.
